A paper receipt from the jeweler on Farmington Avenue lay right next to the corporate filings, showing eighteen hundred dollars charged for a silver chain bracelet and billed straight to Grant’s firm.

I went over the state incorporation papers one more time, checking Margaret Holloway’s signature on the main registration line.

She’d set up Apex three years ago under her maiden name, using a post office box in South Windsor.

I punched holes in the last pile of bank signature cards and snapped the heavy silver binder rings shut.

“Are you leaving the light on all day, Mommy?” Sophie asked from the kitchen doorway in her yellow footed pajamas.

“Just until eight o’clock, sweet pea,” I said.